


Fair

by yeaka



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Blow Jobs, Ficlet, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 05:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Demyx plays Zexion like a sitar. Really, Zexion only half resents it.





	Fair

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fair warning that I’m still playing through the KH series so don’t know all its lore yet. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Kingdom Hearts or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Zexion likes the lounge best when it’s _quiet_ , which basically boils down to free of Larxene or Demyx. Demyx is the worst offender, his infernal sitar making it almost impossible to read, but Larxene’s pestering is almost equally grating, nor can Zexion stand Xigbar’s horrid laugh or Luxord’s anecdotes or Xaldin’s growling. Xion, as useless as she often seems, is actually the best company, but Zexion’s pleased to be even free of her at the moment—the only occupant of the crisp white couches is himself, and he savours that. 

He flips through another ‘borrowed’ volume—one plucked from the sprawling library of Hollow Bastion in between missions—one of the few he’s yet to read. So far, it’s proven interesting, though a tad pedestrian, and he finds the author’s choice of exclamation points within the narrative to be a poor one. Nonetheless, he’s enjoying it.

And he knows that’s over as soon as a dark corridor appears next to the window. Zexion doesn’t bother looking up; he catches it in his peripherals. Then his worst nightmare steps out, as he knew it would—Zexion had the shortest mission by far today, and no one else would finish so early, except, of course, for the one person who hardly even finishes missions at all. 

He isn’t surprised when Demyx beelines straight for his couch, already cooing, “Hey, Zexi, how would you like to do me a teensy weensy little fav—”

Zexion mutters, “Don’t call me that,” before Demyx is even finished. Naturally, it doesn’t deter Demyx in the slightest. Coming up around the coffee table, Demyx plops right onto the cushions beside him, much too close—close enough that Zexion can feel Demyx’s intoxicating warmth and smell his stolen cologne. Zexion was there when Demyx took a few sprays of it in Twilight Town two nights ago. It still clings to him. It doesn’t make him any more or less appealing, because he’s already a brick wall that Zexion hates coming up against.

Mostly hates. _Maybe_ , just a tiny bit, _enjoys_. But that’s a traitorous sort of thought that Zexion’s actively trying to overcome, and it’s not helped a bit by Demyx sidling up to him, tossing a slender arm around his shoulders, and sighing, “ _Please_? I’m sure I only left one or two Heartless, but you know how Saïx is always on my case—”

“The answer’s no, Demyx.”

Demyx pouts. It invades the corner of Zexion’s eye, painfully cute, making it impossible to concentrate on the words in his book. Zexion tries anyway. Then he feels the tip of Demyx’s nose against his cheek, and he jerks back as Demyx tries to nuzzle into him, whining, “Please, please, _please_? I’ll make it worth your while! I found this big chunk of bronze that—”

Zexion shoves Demyx away with one hand and repeats a firm, “No.” It isn’t that he’s opposed to more work himself, but that Demyx doesn’t deserve bailing out—he does little enough as it is. And if there’s one thing Zexion deplores, it’s laziness. 

“C’mon, man—”

“Demyx,” Zexion warns, in a voice proudly close to their leader. Demyx shrinks back on instinct, almost comically drawing in on himself.

But he doesn’t give up, and instead drops right off the couch. That finally draws Zexion’s eye, and he watches Demyx push the coffee table back and crawl around Zexion’s knee, coming to kneel right between his legs. Zexion can already feel his cheeks heating, even though he tries to stop it—it’s ridiculous—he doesn’t even have a heart to pump blood that fast—and he’s _not interested_ in Demyx’s gorgeous eyes or perfect smile or slightly tousled hair. Demyx rests his pretty face on Zexion’s thigh like some lost puppy dog and insists, “I’ll do _anything_ , for real.”

Even as Zexion’s lips move to say _no_ , his mind races through a million possibilities. It’s not like he’s never pictured Demyx like this. He’s pictured Demyx in all sorts of horrid ways. But those were illusions, never meant for reality. It makes him wonder just how desperate for this Demyx really is. Saïx must truly be after him. And of course, Zexion would never let Demyx be discarded, as worthless as he is, because he’s still a member of the Organization and he has so much potential. And nothing else. No other reason. Demyx must see that hesitation, because he leans forward, and this time, Zexion doesn’t push him away.

Zexion lets Demyx press a chaste kiss against his crotch. And Zexion’s instantly ashamed of how a bulge starts to grow there, stiffening more as Demyx nuzzles into it, opening wide to mouth at the leathery fabric. The heat and moisture of Demyx’s slick mouth ghosts right through the material. Zexion shudders, feeling it, and forces his hips still—he won’t give in and thrust up. But he does close his book and place it aside.

He dares to drop one hand into Demyx’s hair. The spikes are surprisingly soft. Demyx looks up at him triumphantly, but not smugly, just happily. Zexion can’t say a word.

Demyx catches the zipper of Zexion’s pants in his teeth. He brushes the folds of Zexion’s jacket open wider, and he drags the zipper down, until Zexion’s semi-hard cock is jutting out. He probably should’ve worn underwear. Sometimes he just forgets; dressing is the least of his concerns, amidst a sea of schemes and books. Demyx looks perfectly fine with the arrangement, even licking his lips with a sort of glee in his wide eyes. Demyx is the sort of filth who probably never bothers with undergarments at all.

He has the sudden urge to see Demyx _naked_ , completely and utterly devoid of all his clothes, but Zexion tries to push that thought away, as fruitless as the effort is. There’s no escaping Demyx’s trap now. Demyx leans forward to brush a closed-mouthed kiss across Zexion’s veiled tip, and a lewd shiver runs straight down Zexion’s spine. Then Demyx parts his lips and lets his tongue flick out, dragging along the thickly-veined side of Zexion’s long cock, and by the time Demyx is lapping at the base, Zexion’s rock-hard.

Demyx gives him a few more teasing licks anyway, paying him special attention, even though the deal’s done—there’s no way Zexion will shove him away now. Zexion couldn’t. Whatever mission’s left, it’ll be worth it. Demyx comes to the end and hovers over it, pink lips opening wide, and it occurs to Zexion how very _exposed_ they are. He prefers to deal in the secrecy of shadows, not right out in the most public of their rooms. But it’s too late for that. Demyx drops down, enveloping Zexion in the hot cavern of his mouth, and Zexion’s lost in a sea of ecstasy.

Demyx is just as good as Zexion knew he would be. Zexion hates how much he’s daydreamed this. But it’s even better than that, than what he expected—the wet, tight heat of Demyx’s throat as Zexion nudges into it, Demyx’s tongue busy along his underside. Demyx takes an absurd amount of him at once, pushing down, then pulling back, dragging glistening saliva as he goes. Zexion _stares_ at the point where his shaft disappears into Demyx mouth. His tip stays inside, and Demyx suckles on it before descending again. Zexion’s fingers are tight in Demyx’s hair, but for once, Demyx doesn’t complain. Instead, he starts taking Zexion down his throat, and Zexion grits his teeth together to stop himself from moaning. 

It’s so, _so_ good. He didn’t think Nobodies could feel this way. He knew they could _feel_ , but not like this, not the way Demyx always gets to him. Demyx crawls under his skin and warms him from the very core, branching out into every crevice. Demyx sucks on him now with a shameless vigor that has Zexion spiraling down. All his careful plans unravel beneath Demyx’s ease. Demyx sucks him and swallows him, bobbing up and down to an increasing beat. Zexion doesn’t know whether to fight it—to make this last as long as it possibly can—or to barrel closer and get it over with, get out of here before the others come and see how far he’s fallen.

In the end, it isn’t up to him. For all Demyx’s idiocy in the field, he’s as expert at this as he is with his sitar. He plays Zexion easily, until Zexion can’t resist—his balls tighten, and he cries out, head tossing back onto the couch, hips jerking up into Demyx’s mouth. He holds Demyx down, tight against him. Demyx makes a single choking noise, then steadies, sucking him right through the orgasm, and it’s easily the best thing Zexion’s ever felt in his “life.”

He explodes in Demyx’s mouth. He paints it with too many days’ worth of pent up _want_ , and his lust boils over, spilling out around the plug of his cock to smear along Demyx’s lips. Demyx sucks him anyway. Demyx swallows it down, one gulp at a time, until Zexion is a dizzy wreck still suffering the aftershocks.

With a final suckle, Demyx pulls off. There’s a sick, wet popping sound at the loss, and the cool air makes Zexion hiss. Demyx just starts tucking his over-sensitive cock lovingly back in, grinning the entire time, like _Demyx_ is the one that just spilled his load into another member’s stomach. In that vulnerable afterglow, Zexion’s bizarrely satisfied for that more than anything: giving Demyx some happiness.

His head is slow to clear after. Demyx takes advantage of it, climbing back up onto the couch. He reaches to give Zexion a full, open-mouthed kiss that Zexion winces away from, muttering, “Gross.” Demyx just laughs. 

He stretches out along Zexion’s lap then, sprawled over the entire length of the couch. He snaps his fingers, and his sitar appears. It annoys Zexion, but for once, he tolerates it. Demyx chirps, “So you’ll take out those Heartless, yeah?”

Zexion grunts, “Yes.”

But for now, while it’s just the two of them, still in close contact, he picks his book back up. It’s harder to read than before.

He tries anyway, while Demyx’s song lilts by in the background.


End file.
